Confessions of a Death Eater
by AllieJannie
Summary: He needed to get the cabinet fixed. He needed to kill Albus Dumbledore. He needed to redeem the Malfoy Family to the Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy didn't want to do that, but he was assigned to. What he didn't need to do was to inform Dumbledore and fall in love with Hermione Granger, but he did it anyway. And he was still waiting to regret it. Sixth Year. Ginny Bashing.
1. Preface

**This is going to be updated slowly till I finish Starting Anew. Anyways, I hope you like it, and don't forget that I would also appreciate if you would share your thoughts by reviewing the story. This is just a bit of a sneak peek.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters here (though I really, really want to). J.K. Rowling does. :)**

"Do you regret it?" Draco looked at her, surveying the bushy-haired Gryffindor sitting beside him. They were looking at the night sky and watched the stars sparkled and twinkled. It was a good break... from the cabinet. It really was. He had never felt so relaxed, and if he could, he wanted to freeze this night and let it stay like this forever, be it selfish or not. "Regret befriending me, I mean." There were no insecurities threaded to her tone, just plain curiosity. It was then she stared right back at him, her hazel-brown eyes wide and naive at the same time.

He sighed, and he raised the hands that were supporting his back and slammed himself down the ground. The grass tickled his ears as he broke his gaze with her before turning his attention back to the clouds above them. "If I did regretted it, I would've already left you here alone and called you a mudblood," he scoffed, sneering at the name. Draco still hadn't gotten rid of his old habit, but he was trying to–something that Hermione appreciated. His fingers then dug to his palm. "Actually, that question should actually be directed from me to you, Granger."

"I don't."

"And this is why, I would never understand you," he muttered under his breath, continuing to look up. "I thought it was the Hufflepuffs' jobs to try and fix the helpless."

She laid her head to the ground. "It probably is," she said softly. "But you're not exactly helpless."

"If Weasel could hear you now, he would've jumped into his grave and start rolling around it, same with Potter."

For the first time, Hermione didn't comment on his insult. Instead, she placed her hand on top of his, curling her fingers to the spaces between his fingers. "I don't care."


	2. Confession 1

**Hey guys! Hopefully you would like this chapter. I would appreciate your comments and thoughts!**

 ** _Confession Number 1 : Slytherins Aren't Evil_**

Draco Malfoy felt sick. He wanted to bend over and clutch his stomach till he puked every ounce of blood in his system. An awful death, yes, but it was better than facing the Dark Lord again. He groaned and tilted his head to the glass window beside him. Kill Dumbledore. The Dark Lord had said. Fix the Vanishing Cabinet. He had said. Just from the thought, he paled even more. How could he even accomplish this? Why couldn't he asked Nott? Or even Flint? Was he actually making a reason to torture the entire Malfoy family? He shook his head, hoping that the thoughts would dissipate. He will think more of it when he get to Hogwarts, for now, he might as well rest during the Train.

He glanced as the compartment slid open a bit revealing Zabini, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle. Though Zabini still didn't have the dark mark, he knew what he and the other three had been up to during the summer. Draco could almost remember the hot searing pain being drawn in his arm that could rival the Cruciatus Curse. "How are you?" Blaise said, warily looking at them all, a tinge of pity embedded in his tone.

"Awful," Pansy leaned on Draco's shoulder for support. She looked well enough, but once one looked closer, one could see the bags under her eyes. None of them looked well, even the Italian looked ragged in appearance. "But, at least it was done. And we still got two years left till we go back permanently."

Draco laughed bitterly, "Good for all of you then. I have to actually worry about the assignment."

They all knew that the Slytherin Prince was assigned a 'mission', but he never did gotten to tell them what it was or even what would happen if this would even work. He rubbed his forehead. Pansy and Blaise shot him a sympathetic look to which he ignored. Right now, he wasn't looking for pity, but actual help. Merlin, he might even consider throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower if his plan didn't work at all. Crabbe and Goyle, however, didn't get why he was so upset. "I would be proud if I was given an assignment," Crabbe was the first one who commented, puffing his chest.

"Yeah," Goyle nodded.

Of course. How could he have forgotten? Only Blaise and Pansy had understand where he was coming from, what he was even going through at this stage. Crabbe and Goyle were just bloody mindless goons who was appointed as his assistants in the assignment he needed to work on. He rolled his eyes. They were just there because of his father before, and now, they were just there because the Dark Lord suddenly granted him this task. They were like leeches sucking up the attention, like Potter.

At the thought of Potter, he sneered even more. How dare he insulted his mother? The stupid Gryffindors always follow the stereotype. The ignorant things they always did were counted as chivalry. Blaise excused himself to go out for a while to go to Slughorn. "Bloody hell," Goyle muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Might as well sleep. Summer was awful."

Pansy sneered, "Well, what did you expect? A bunch of roses, Goyle?"

"Bitch," Crabbe snapped.

"Not exactly a dog," she snapped back. "Or were your brains too little to actually progress that?"

Ah, and there was the Pansy Parkinson everyone knew, the bitch who thinks she owned the world. She sometimes wasn't like this at all, but sometimes, masks became a part of oneself that even they believed that this is them. This is what Draco had believed as years passes from his first year as a stuck up snob. Then again, Slytherins were always the people who mask themselves. The Gryffindors wouldn't know what loyalty was... they do.

"Shut it, three of you."

Before any of them could respond, Blaise opened the door, almost slamming it shut if it wasn't for it being pushed back open. Draco furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the opening the glanced at the floor. It couldn't be just thin air holding the thing. The door closed properly just a few minutes ago. "What the bloody hell?" Already aggravated as he was, Zabini kicked the door shut only for it to slam open once again, and the Italian flung towards Goyle's lap.

He pushed him away. Draco ignored the quarrel and turned his gaze around the compartment when the door finally shut. He tugged Pansy by the arm before tracing the lightning scar on her skin. Realization dawned her immediately and a smirk replaced her frown. She gave Blaise a hard look, and the ruckus they were having stopped immediately. The Italian narrowed his eyes at the door and slowly nodded a bit. "So, Zabini," the blond said, making sure that his voice was filled with coldness and pride. He didn't want Potter–if his assumption was correct– to think he was weak or anything. "What did Slughorn want?"

"Trying to make connections."

"Who was in there?" Pansy observed her nails, glancing at the others a bit.

"Potter, Longbottom, and the Weasley Girl," Blaise said.

And that was it.

They continued to talk with each other, but all Draco was concentrating at was the place where they put their luggages. He just needed a bit more proof... maybe he was hallucinating or something. He, then, winked at the Italian before he started speaking. "Not planning to go back to Hogwarts next year," he said, pushing his voice to become as arrogant as possible. As if getting it, Pansy let out a soft gasp and she lifted her head from his shoulders.

"Why?" She lowered her voice into a mocking whisper. "Is it because of... Him?"

Even Crabbe and Goyle decided to lean in while Blaise raised an eyebrow. Just glancing at the oversized Slytherins, they probably had no idea to what they were talking about. Draco shrugged, but his eyes were still trained on the baggage. It started to move a bit, and that's when he turned back to the others. "Mother insisted I finish my education, but who would care about that anyway? When the Dark Lord takes over, it wouldn't be about the N.E.W.T. or our O.W.L., it would be about his most devoted followers."

"And you think you're qualified?" the curiosity wasn't there. Instead, the sardonic tone of Blaise's voice took over.

Draco shrugged again, "Let's talk about it later. I see Hogwarts."

He stood up, as did the others. Goyle grabbed his baggage, and the Slytherin Prince was sure that he had heard a gasp and that bag had definitely collided with something. Blaise's ears perked up, noticing it too, but Pansy didn't. Instead, she was already half way out of the compartment. "You go on," he nodded to the compartment. When they were already out, he opened his luggage. He hid a smile that was forming in his lips when he could hear someone breathing beside him as if anticipating on what it was. Without another thought, he whirled his wand at the direction where he last heard him and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Draco removed the Invisibility Cloak that was hiding the boy-who-lived. He sneered. This was the person who had thrown his father to Azkaban. THis was the person who had made him accept a suicide mission. This was the person who had insulted his mother. He stomped his foot on his face, hearing a satisfying crack. "That's for my father," he spat before smirking at Potter's state. "Let's see."

He threw the Cloak back to him, covering him completely. "See you later Potter... or not."

The Slytherin chuckled when he finally walked out of the compartment. When he finally saw Blaise and Pansy, he strode towards them, the smirk still playing on his lips. The other two copied his actions. "So, was it him?" Pansy eagerly asked, her eyes lightening up when he nodded.

When he talked to them about what had happened, Blaise scoffed, "Serves him right... listening in on conversations."

Draco laughed, for the first time during the summer, he had actually laughed truly. THough it was short and strained, it still felt nice to actually be happy. Slytherin had always been discriminated as the 'evil house'. Well, fuck them. They were loyal to one another, and this was the house where they'd all find who their true friends are. This is the house where one would know who would be abandoned and who would be befriended. They all had each other's backs, and it was the same for Blaise, Pansy, and him.

And if that was evil.

Then he didn't want to be fucking angelic.


	3. Confession 2

**Hey guys! How are you? :) First of all, I would like to thank the people who followed this story, and for the people who are silently reading this at the moment. I do appreciate it. Of course don't forget to share your thoughts about this chapter. What do you think of Draco, Pansy, and Blaise hmm? Don't forget to leave reviews.**

 _ **Confession Number Two: Not All Slytherins Want to Be Death Eaters**_

Once Draco saw even just a glimpse of the Great Hall, he felt a sense of dread, a feeling that he knew he wasn't at all used to. Ever since he had arrived in a young age of eleven, he always thought of Hogwarts as a place of Sanctuary, a place that was far away from his father's gaze and his mother's worry. This was the place where he felt most protected, most loved, screw Malfoy Manor, if he could spend all his years in Hogwarts, he would've. Sometimes he even wondered on why he bothered to keep coming back, keep coming back to hear his father's repeating praise on how the Malfoy family could please the Dark Lord or even see his mother's critical stare when his O.W.L's had arrived. Nine O.W.L.'s he had, but with his parents, it was never quite enough.

He glanced at Blaise who was sitting beside him, the same emotionless and gaunt expression he had was still plastered on his face. It was the same for Parkinson, with a proud and snotty expression on hers. With that look that seemed to permanently stick themselves on their faces while in public, he was sure that they could rival any 'acter' (as the muggles called it) there was in their generation. Even the way they act, they could win an award any day.

He took a seat at the middle with the Italian by his left and Parkinson at his right. If there were any one in Hogwarts that he had gotten close to, it was them. Though they didn't look as if they talked much nor do they do hugs or whatever those Gryffindors do, they were very close. One might even call them the 'Silver Trio', if they wanted to follow Potter's gang. Draco gagged at the thought. The Slytherins all 'round were talking with each other, exchanging ideas on what've happened back in the Ministry, while there were a few who remained silent. Some of them were actually willing to become death eaters, and he couldn't help but exchange revolted looks with Pansy. She was the only one who actually understood the dangers that was to come.

"Looks like Potter have gotten off the train," he heard Blaise mutter before whipping his head to the direction that his best mate was looking at. There was the boy-who-lived, or as he liked to call the boy-who-relied-on-his-friends-to-sacrifice-themselves-for-him-to-live, but of course, no one shared the exact thought as he had. Beside him was the Weasel, while on the other was Granger. She looked different, Draco noticed. The frizzy hair she once had settled into wild curls. It was still a bit bushy, but it had finally toned down and revealed more of her heart-shape face. The buck-teeth mudblood was long gone from the list of insults he once had for her. "Granger had changed..."

It looked like he wasn't the only one who had noticed it too.

"Still a mudblood," Draco sneered as he continued to stare at the Golden Trio making their way to the Gryffindor table. Granger glanced at his table though, and when she caught his eye, she shot him a dirty look before turning her attention back to her housemates. "And still an annoying swot."

"At least she doesn't look like an annoying swot," Blaise pointed out, and the Slytherin Prince found himself lost for words.

Pansy, hearing the comment, crinkled her nose in disgust. "Yes, yes," she said. "Everyone had changed in physical appearances, now could we please stop commenting how the mudblood looks? Born a mudblood, die a mudblood, I say."

Though they weren't really massive fans of blood purity, it was still a habit for them–Draco and Pansy. Being raised to believe it, the words that were spouting out of their mouths were the same comments their parents had been using on that interesting topic. It may have not been quite acceptable for other houses, but in theirs, saying the word 'mudblood' was like saying any other word. It never really packed quite a punch anyway. It was hard.

The Italian snickered, "Think of it as you must."

The Great Hall silenced down when Dumbledore came to view. Draco bit his tongue when he saw the old man standing in front of him, not even noticing his decaying arm. Beads of sweat slid down his neck and he could feel his hands started to shake. As if noticing his growing anxiety, Pansy placed a hand on his trembling hand, squeezing it slowly. The words that he had been saying faded to the back of his mind, and all he could do was just stare at the Headmaster. That was when he glanced at his arm. What had happened? Was he sick? A bubble of excitement started to grow in his chest.

Could Dumbledore die without him even laying a finger on his body?

He hoped so. Merlin, he prayed so.

Blaise nudged him, "Mate, you haven't touched the food in two minutes."

That was when he snapped out of his daze and noticed that there were plates of food already on the table. Feebly, he grabbed his fork and took some potatoes and steak, placing it on his plate. There was the Vanishing Cabinet he needed to worry about too. It was like his whole world was crashing down ever since the Dark Lord had came from bloody fucking life! "Snape as the DADA Professor, huh," Theodore Nott commented while they were eating. He wasn't a death eater, but from what he had heard from the meeting with the Dark Lord, he was on his next hit list on who-to-suffer-from-the-dark-mark.

"Finally," Pansy remarked. "We hadn't gotten a good professor since that bloody werewolf."

It was not really a secret in the Slytherin house that they liked the werewolf as their professor ever since third year. At least he had the guts to actually teach them something and show them what creatures they were likely to face and what spells that they needed to use. It was quite too bad that he had a 'problem'. Draco nodded in agreement.

"First year Professor stuttered too much, couldn't teach us a damn thing. Second year was Lockhart, think that explains it 'nuff. Third year was alright, but he had to be a bloody werewolf. Fourth year was a git. Fifth year, fifth year was a nightmare," it was Flint's turn to comment, crossing his arms. "That DADA spot is jinxed."

"Jinxed is a way to put it," Blaise noted.

And the others continued talking. Pansy and Blaise sometimes butted in, but Draco continued to stay silent, which was quite unusual for the three of them. Ever since first year, the Slytherin was a talkative one, always criticizing people and always looking down on others, but that was what they didn't get at all. Ever since the stunt the death eaters and the Order had pulled during the Ministry, ever since his father had been sent to Azkaban, Draco had lost half of the respect he had from his other housemates he once had back when he first arrived. Now, he had no one else to look down to because all of them, though consciously or unconsciously, were looking down on him! Draco fidgeted. The Malfoy name now was held like a piece of dirt, and there was nothing he could do to regain its former glory.

"Have you heard that Potter was there in the Ministry?"

"Yeah, with those blood traitors."

That was how fast the topic had changed. And it was now all about Saint Potter and his blood traitor of a friend. Blaise chuckled and Pansy and Draco glanced up at him, "The first year said that Potter had a chance against the Dark Lord."

Pansy snorted while the Slytherin Prince shook his head.

"If he does, he better do it quick," Draco snarked and Pansy nodded.


	4. Confession 3

**Hey guys! This is the third chapter! I hope you guys like it :) This week, I won't be around as much as I wanted to because I will be going out with my mom for a few days, so yeah. Thank you guys for following my story, and of course SomeoneKnew, your comment really made me blush. Thank you! And for all you silent readers, do share your thoughts. :) See ya!**

 **Confession Number 3: What You See Isn't Always Everything**

Defense Against The Dark Arts.

That was the last class they had before they could get to their free time. Technically, it was the class that was hindering him from finally working on the cabinet. It wasn't going to be fun. Draco knew that, but it was just the one month since he had gotten here, and he needed to get this stress off of him. He spent the whole night reading about that blasted thing, and all he needed was to refurnish it... but how? That was the question that he was desperately searching an answer for. He could do this. He sighed running a hand through his hair, he found himself sighing a lot these days.

Pansy and Blaise were helping him in a way. They knew a bit about the Vanishing Cabinet, and they also knew about his task to murder the Headmaster. No matter how much he wanted to refuse their help, they were trying. Books were received, all about that stuff, and he sometimes even found them reading and discussing about it, but that wasn't the reason that he was thankful for. It was because that even in the circumstances he was in, they still managed to get a few chuckles out of him. They still helped him relax, and even Blaise was helping him with a few essays he never bothered to do (that still didn't stop him from failing still).

The corners of his lips inched him to a smile as he twirled the quill between his fingers.

Professor Snape trudged into the room and the loud snickers and cheers from the Gryffindors became silent. His beady eyes scanned the class before he flicked his wand, and the books that were in their bag sprang out to their table. "You will be partnering with each other for a... project–an essay if you must on the three Unforgivable Spells. You must give me a parchment for each about the consequences that would happen and a few spells that could be nearly as similar as the Unforgivables."

A partner. Good.

If it was a Slytherin, they could do it for him. Maybe if he was actually lucky, Blaise might even be his partner... and that would give him absolutely free time to work in the cabinet more. Draco was about to give a sigh of relief when his Head of House decided to say the names, "Potter and Weasley, Longbottom and Parkinson, Flint and Zabini, Nott and Patil, Granger and Malfoy..." That was it. The other names faded to the back of his mind when he heard his name and Granger's. The Slytherin Prince groaned and placed his hands on his face, not even bothering to notice the pitying glances from his housemates and the heated glares from Saint Potter and Weasel.

"I expect you to do well," Professor Snape sneered. "This is a very important essay, one that requires both of you to work together. I do not expect you to take this lightly. Now, take a seat beside your partner."

"Sorry, mate," Blaise whispered as he slipped out of his seat.

Bloody fucking hell... Granger was going to be his partner. The bloody mudblood was going to be helping him with this project. Draco wouldn't really care much as she was the smartest witch her age, but she hated his guts. She could fail this project and still get an O at the end of the year. He, however, it didn't even look like his grades could survive a month. He cursed silently at the thought. Draco stiffened when he felt someone sit beside him, and the smell of strawberries made him feel particularly woozy. "Ever heard of strawberry overdose, Granger?" He spat and his nose crinkled.

Her eyes narrowed, "For your information, it was Ginny's fault," she responded hotly, crossing her arms. "Ever heard of not insulting people, Malfoy?"

"Technically, it's the truth. Then again, what the Weaselette did was a good call too, don't want the muddy scent to get to me," Draco sneered. Oh yes, the project was going to go incredibly well, he could imagine.

"Ms. Granger, I'd expect better from you in joining the banter with Mr. Malfoy. Five points from Gryffindor," he spoke dryly and color flooded her cheeks. She gripped the textbook that she was holding, and she tried to hide herself in those curly hair of hers. Draco struggled to not snicker in front of his favorite professor, but seeing how embarrassed Granger was, it was hard. When he walked away, she turned and shot him a glare.

"Thanks a lot, Malfoy," she spat before giving a sigh. "Look, I don't like this anymore than you do, but I'm going to be mature about it and work it out. What time are you free?"

"Are you asking me out, Granger?"

The Gryffindor spluttered slightly and the blush brightened into a vibrant shade of red. Suits her house color if he must say. "No!" she hissed. "I would never ask an arrogant prat like you. I was just asking that because we needed to see each other to work on our project. Now, what time?"She looked ready to charge at him.

"Well, you could've just said so." He leaned back on his seat while Granger slammed the parchment on his desk.

"What. Time." She said through gritted teeth.

He sighed, "Tomorrow, after Herbology. We have free period, am I right?" she nodded. "There. Now, would you please stop harassing me?"

"You're a git."

"Well, do you really expect me to be charming to a bitch?"

Draco was surprised that no one was paying attention to what they were shooting at each other. But when he looked around, it seemed that a few partners weren't really going too well. Hell, he could even see a Gryffindor already pulling out a wand. Granger glared at him, and a smug look started to form in her face, "True that," she said. "But do you really expect me to be kind to a guy who had his father thrown in Azkaban?"

He froze. He wasn't really expecting the insult to come so fast, nor was he expecting it to hurt so much... from a mudblood. He frowned, and his grey eyes darkened in a stormy shade. "Oh, yes, bring my father into this, why don't you?" his face was passive, but from his voice, it was like a knife cutting through the tension. "Is it that hard to find any faults in me that you have to bring my father into the conversation?" he snorted. "Well, couldn't expect anything better from a mudblood."

Silence had intervened them.

Draco didn't bother to comment now. He hated her–despised her every being. That was the thing about Gryffindors, they always brought up their family background and try to find something to fault them with it, as if the person was just like his parents–as if he was just like his father. He wasn't... He wouldn't be like him. He seethed silently. When they bring their parents into this, the Gryffindor would laugh and clap each other in the back, but when they did it, all they would receive was a punch from the victim or even maybe detention. Because technically, Slytherin was the 'evil' house. And they thought prejudice was far gone in their dictionary.

He sneered.

Before Granger could speak up, Snape had already said, "You may go now."

And he shot up from his seat and stalked off.

"Hey!" He turned to see Pansy running towards him. Blaise was nowhere near sight, probably working on the project by himself. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"I heard what the mudblood said," Pansy shook her head in disgust. "The nerve of her. Are you going to work on the cabinet?" She changed the subject, noticing the way the blond Slytherin had tensed his shoulders at the mention of Granger.

"Yes."

She looked at him calculatingly, "You got one whole year, Draco. Couldn't you just sit down and relax?" When he shook his head, she tapped her foot. "You could fix that cabinet, but you obviously couldn't do that if you're going to be zombie like and be an arse like that."

That's when he looked at her, finally looked at her up and down. Pansy's dark eyes glazed at him, but there was a hint of concern in those deep abyss. The emotionless mask was gone from her face, and it held worry and... frustration. "What do you want me to do?" He asked, throwing his hands up in the air. It was a good thing they were near the dungeon, so nobody could hear them. "Technically, my mother is acting like a bloody puppet. My dad is in Azkaban. And now I'm in the Dark Lord's mercy. Disobey him? Die. Follow him? Later on get killed. Fail? Die. Either way, I die. My mother die. My father die. So tell me... what. do. you. want. me. to. do?"

When she went silent, he crossed his arms. "That's what I thought."

He was about to walk off when she grabbed his arm. She opened his hand and slipped him a package. "There's a curse in this necklace. Let it touch Dumbledore, and he'd die." She didn't say another world before she strolled off with hands in her pockets before turning back to Draco. "Oh, and Drake, you must be quite stressed out to be affected by Granger's words. I know you dislike your father."

"I just don't like people pointing out my family's flaws," he muttered.

But the curly brunette still didn't left his mind.

And he hated it.


	5. Confession 4

**Hi guys! I'm sorry that I updated a bit late considering the fact that I just went on a bit of a food trip (yey me!) XD Anyways, thank you for the people who followed and favorite my story. And the PeanutCookiesXD thank you! I do understand that the partner thing is a tad cliche, but thanks for pointing that out.**

 **Confession Number 4: The Dark Lord is a Monster.**

Draco slept incredibly fine last night. There were actually multiple of reasons.

First off, it was because of the necklace. He finally found a way to make sure that it would be sent to Dumbledore. Who would do it better than a Gryffindor? His sights were set on Katie Bell, a Quidditch Player, who seemed to be quite enough to pull this stunt of. He might as well get it done before they could all go to Hogsmeade, which was three weeks away. Maybe he could actually send it to Dumbledore, and he'd die. His mother would be safe, and his father... well, screw him. He was the bloody reason why they were in this shit in the first place!

Secondly, it was the cabinet. He was about to try and test a spell to the cabinet and see if it work. It was almost Christmas, and he was in no absolute mood to fail this time.

Thirdly, it was the letter from his mother.

Usually, letters didn't do much for him as he only received a minimal amount of it through his last five years in Hogwarts. He only received them if his parents had heard complaints about his academic self or his conduct from his godfather. This letter, however, had anything but. And he couldn't help but smile.

 _Draco,_

 _Hopefully, you are fine and well, and you are still paying attention to your studies. I'm sending this letter to you, to tell you that I'm alright. The Dark Lord hadn't visit us much since he gave you this mission. I am healing, if that was what you were wondering. The Cruciatus Curse was nothing... I have faced far worse than that, but I do thank you for your concern. How is the cabinet? I hope you are not working on it day and night, it would do you no good if you become stress. It would only delay your work._

 _I should blame you, however, for the houselves who seemed as if they didn't want to leave me, but I would let it pass._

 _But Draco Hyperion Malfoy, I am serious here. You should concentrate more on your work. Severus had told me that you have not given school work any regard, and by next week, I should be getting a letter from him that you are now doing fine._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Narcissa Malfloy_

The Slytherin shuddered as he could hear the faint screams that his mother had given before she dropped to the ground–almost lifeless when the Dark Lord was done with her. He could even hear the small hisses the snake had sounded as it circled his mother's neck and down her non-moving body. At the thought, the mark burned slightly. He hated it. He hated that his father had made them enter in a place that no one would return alive, or even sane in that matter. He could see the dark red blood dripping from his mother's cuts and the way her eyes fluttered when her body slammed to the ground.

He choked.

At least she was fine, he thought. There was that.

"Oi, Mate," he turned to Blaise who was dealing with his plant. His eyebrows were furrowed, and the way his fingers were clenched around the leaves showed that he was incredibly annoyed with it. Herbology wasn't his best subject; it may also not be his worst, but every Slytherin knew that Zabini hated it. "You want me to help you with Transfigurations? Free Period's next." He said, but it wasn't exactly 'Transfigurations' they were working on. It was the cabinet.

There were millions of ways on how Draco would say yes to that, but he also had the mudblood to worry about.

No... it wasn't her he was worried about, it was his godfather.

Technically, Snape had suddenly grown a fetish in reporting every single detail to his mother, even in his academics–that damned academics! Draco scowled, and he shook his head at the dark-skinned man. "Can't," he muttered with a shrug. "Working with Granger for the DADA later." At the sentence, Blaise guffawed. He put a hand on his mouth as laughter escaped his lips. A few Slytherins and Ravenclaws had glanced his way, but it didn't seem that he was that bothered by it.

"Granger?" he spluttered in the middle of his laughs. "You're finally doing school work with Granger? Dunno about you mate, but I feel as if the world's about to end."

"Oh, how I wish," Draco said dryly.

The other man scoffed, "Well, I would love to wish you luck, but I doubt that's going to be enough."

* * *

Draco walked into the library, ignoring the curious stares of some passerby's. Ah, the library. As much as he had loved it once back in second and third year, he now rarely even go back. When there was less time involved, he found himself concentrating on more important things. Books were technically the least of his worries. When he spotted the curly haired brunette, he sat down beside her only for her to look at him in surprised. "Malfoy... you came," she muttered, a bit gobsmacked by his presence.

"Of course," he shrugged, and he raised an eyebrow. "Should I leave? I technically have more things to worry about than this blasted project–"

"No. Stay."

The words slipped out of her mouth when he was about to get up. She blushed a deep shade of pink, "Malfoy," she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for what I've said the other day. It was rather... out of hand, and I shouldn't have mentioned it."

He sneered, "Ah, a Gryffindor Mudblood apologizing for doing something out-of-hand. The world's about to end." He had said it mockingly. His father was nobody's business, especially when it came out of some Gryffindor's mouth, especially when that same Gryffindor was the cause on why he was brought into this dilemma in the first place. He couldn't help but repeat that thought to himself over and over again, and it only fueled his anger towards the Golden Trio even more so. Granger turned into a violent shade of red that could match Weasley's strikingly orange head before crossing her arms.

"Look, I'm apologizing. I also don't want to be in this position any more than you do, so could you please stop being a prat and deal with it? Call me mudblood one more time, ferret, and I'll make sure what Moody did to you would be like child's play when I'm done," she spat, her hazel-brown eyes glittering with anger and defiance. Ah, he had never quite forgotten how feisty she could be when she wanted to. He started to unconsciously rub his face when the memory of third year started to play in his mind.

"Fine... Granger."

She smirked in accomplishment. His face soured.

"Okay, let's get started."

That was when she started to explain more and more about the DADA topic. She started handing out some parchment to him as she continued to speak about the three Unforgivables. The uncomfortable look on her face was far gone as minutes had pass. Draco could see that she was already in her comfort zone–her studies, and he couldn't help but find it amusing on how _in_ she was when it came to academics. Fuck, she seemed to have memorized the text books on the Unforgivables from front to back.

"You," she pointed a finger at him. "Will start writing about the Cruciatus Curse. There are a few spells in the text book that have similar effects, so you could check that out. There are also some books in the Restricted Section, which you should get from Snape, of course. It is due in a few weeks, so you should get that done in four days time–"

"I am not a dog, Granger. If you're going to find someone to order around, you should've brought Potty or Weasel," he scowled. "Don't think you're above me."

Her bossy attitude wavered a bit, "I don't order anyone around," she argued hotly.

"You do," he snapped. "Look, is that all you got to say? Do this and do that? Because unlike you, studies are the least important thing in my list right now, mudblood."

She flinched, "Would you stop calling me a mudblood?"

It was his turn to smirk, "It's a bit of a habit, mudblood, and as you muggles say 'Old habits die hard.'"

"Some may also say 'Don't do unto others what you don't want others to do unto you.'"

"Well, that quote isn't going to work this time as I, so far, am not a muggleborn. You, technically, are."

Instead of her looking outraged like she usually did, she actually laughed. The sound of her laughter entered in his ears, and he found himself giving a small enough smile. It wasn't his fault that it was contagious! "You know, ferret," she said, a smile still on her lips. "You are a hypocrite. For someone who hates mudbloods and muggles, I'm sure you'd know tons of muggle quotes to slap me on the face."

"You are obviously and utterly wrong," he sighed gathering the parchment that she had given him. "Look, Granger, though this chat seemed to be inspiring, I have better things to do. I'll give you the parchment 'in the next four days', so if you please." He got up and was about to walk off, hearing Granger's voice when he was already a few feet away from getting out of the library.

"Read Shakespeare's work, I'm sure you'd get tons of quotes from that."

The Slytherin Prince shook his head and made his way to the cabinet.


	6. Confession 5

**Sorry for the late update! It has been quite a hectic week for me. Don't forget to review and tell me your thoughts of course! :)**

 **Confession Number 5: Saying an Unforgivable Is Hard... Even for a Death Eater.**

"Imperio!" Draco Malfoy pointed his wand towards the victim, his voice not wavering like before when he had first used the unforgivable. His steel grey eyes stared at the large woman, and his other hand clenched. He hated it–hated how his thoughts were filled with guilt after, despised how he wanted to jump off a cliff after doing the deed, but this time as he cast this to an already possessed Madam Rosmerta, he almost felt nothing at all. He was saving his arse, besides, it wasn't like he was casting a Crucio or anything. This wouldn't affect her. He took another deep breath before a string of words slipped out of his lips, "You see this box?" his other hand shoved in his pockets, pulling out a small container. "You will give this to Katie Bell and cast an Imperius Curse to her. Tell her to give it to Sir Dumbledore and let him touch it. After that, you will not remember this conversation." Madam Rosmerta nodded.

There was going to be a Quidditch Match before their Hogsmeade trip, and from what his sources had been telling him, it was usually Katie going to Madam Rosmerta to get some Butterbeer or Firewhiskey. At this rate, all he needed was Gryffindor to win (which was pretty much already a hundred percent positive) and they were in. The plan would go as he wanted to. Draco placed his wand in his pockets before stalking off, making sure that he snuck in the correct corridor before walking his way back to the castle. Thank Merlin for hidden doors, or else sneaking out of Hogwarts would've been impossible.

Now, all he needed to do was get the hell away from Filch's cat and–

"Malfoy?"

Draco turned around, his stance alert and his wand out only to be faced by a familiar Gryffindor. "Granger?" he whispered incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Prefect, remember?" Hermione raised an eyebrow as if it was obvious. "Besides, I can't sleep."

"Well then, Granger, good bye."

"Wait!" He turned his attention back to her. She had her arms crossed and a foot was tapping repeatedly on the concrete. "You still haven't told me why you're here. You aren't a prefect so, that wouldn't be a reason..."

There were millions of ways he could answer her–many ways. He could say that he was just taking a walk around, or he couldn't sleep. Fuck, he could even say that it was none of the mudblood's business, but instead he had said, "I had been reading Shakespeare... so I decided to take a walk around and I also couldn't sleep." Great, he muddled everything together. Damn the Unforgivables. They always took a toll on him and his mind. He wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly started to cluck like a chicken. Well, at least it was better than 'I just went to Hogsmeade to Imperius Madame Rosmerta and let her kill Dumbledore unintentionally.' Ah, bloody brilliant.

The suspicious look she had been giving him was gone and the corners of her lips curved up into a full-blown grin. Gone was the tired-looking muggleborn, he thought almost bitterly. "Really? What did you read? How did you like it? I didn't realize that you followed my suggestion."

Draco had read Shakespeare before... wasn't really his taste of books, but then again, it was good enough. He, then, smirked, "'Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change."

Hermione's nose crinkled, "Romeo and Juliet?"

"The first thing I saw," he shrugged. "Got a problem with that, Granger?"

"I didn't know you were a tragedy-romance type... I just... I'm not a fan of it."

He shook his head, "It's amusing that they killed each other for 'love'," he rolled his eyes. It was stupid. "It makes them weak, giving up so easily. If that's love, it's not as powerful as one would think."

"Hmm, I don't think it was love at all, but lust," Hermione hummed in approval, and her eyes lightened as she continued to talk. "It's dumb, I don't know why people claim the story was irrevocably romantic and how the two people had fought for love when they hadn't really fought at all." Ah, so it seemed that they finally agreed in something.

Draco chuckled, a small smile growing on his face. "Finally agreed on something I said, eh Granger?"

"That's the first time you ever said something civil, Malfoy," she snarked.

He smirked, "Touche."

The comforting silence was cut off when they could hear familiar footsteps. "Where are they?" He could hear Filch's mutters and they could almost see his shadow. Draco was about to run to the other end of the corridor when the nasty old cat had finally spotted them before the man had followed. They found themselves staring down at the caretaker. "Well, well, well, students breaking out of curfew–"

"I am a Prefect, sir," Hermione caught off smoothly. "I already deducted points from Mr. Malfoy and am escorting him back to his common room."

She had lied.

If there was any time for jaw dropping, it would've been now if he hadn't restrained himself. Here was Granger, the Gryffindor Princess... or mudblood as he had once called, lying for him. He hadn't heard the rest of the words that came out of Filch's mouth nor had he been paying attention to the way the Gryffindor had her hand pointing at him every now and then. He had only gotten to the end when he saw the caretaker gave a satisfied nod before walking off. He hadn't even noticed the fact that she was holding his wrist when she got out of their way before she let go. "You lied," he whispered as he furrowed his eyebrows, still not registering why she had done that.

"Well, I did stall you from coming back to your common room, was the least I could do," she waved it off before giving a Slytherin-Like smirk. "I guess it's time to part ways," she said before hesitating. "Have a good night, Malfoy, and next time, you'd read something more enlightening than Romeo and Juliet."

"Have a good night to you too, Granger..."

He strolled off.

She wasn't that bad at all... for a mudblood.

He grinned at the thought.

* * *

Draco stared at the familiar eyes of his best friend as they walked down the hallway, finished with breakfast. "You finally did it?" Blaise cocked up an eyebrow as slung his bag on his shoulders. Noticing the tension between the two, Pansy leaned into the blond Slytherin, her head hitting his shoulder in the process. "Last night?" he prompted.

He nodded.

Pansy grinned almost relieved, but there was a spark of concern in her face. "How was it?" she whispered.

If there was anyone who could understand on how hard casting an Unforgivable could be, Pansy would've understood... any sane death eater would've. They should want it–need it. If he wanted to cast the killing curse, it was more than just saying the two bloody words and point the wand at the victim... no. He should want it. He should desire the victim to drop dead on the floor. It was same with the Cruciatus Curse and also similar to the Imperius Curse. They had done all three, as some sort of... sick test for the Dark Lord before they took their mark.

The first time he did it, he cried. He remembered Pansy contacting Blaise, and they floo over to Zabini Manor as he tried to convince them that they weren't monsters, that they weren't those heartless creatures that considered themselves above everyone just because they could kill with no regret. He hated that feeling.

But the longer he did it, the less he felt.

And there were times he felt scared–that he was finally turning to the monsters his father and his aunt Bellatrix were.

Now, he felt nothing. He was relieved, that the burden had lifted somewhat off his back. He despised it, but outwardly, to Pansy and Blaise, he managed a small smile. "It was alright."

Silence.

They were about to make it to class when a familiar redhead had bumped into Pansy, knocking her off her balance. Draco's hand shot to her arm, steadying her. "Watch it, Weasley!" Pansy growled at him, wrenching his hand off her, staring at the tall freckly wizard that stood in front of him. In his right side were Harry and Hermione who glanced warily at the female Slytherin.

"Come on, Ron, let's–"

"Why don't you watch it?" he snapped. "Too busy fawning over the ferret to pay attention to where you're walking to?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, "That the best you got, Weasel? That insult is as old as your hand-me-down robes!"

The Weasley was about to stomp forward to get nearer to her when Blaise and Draco stood in front of him, their arms crossed as they glowered at the redhead. "Potter," Blaise spat. "Why don't you do something useful for a change by getting the git out of our sight?"

"He's not a git. You are."

It was Draco's turn to laugh, "Are you sure, Potter? I'm sure I wasn't the one who's about to hit a girl."

"Not a girl, really," The weasel had the nerve to speak! "More of a bitch really."

Draco punched him right on the nose, his grey eyes flashing and changing into a stormy grey. He was about to stomp over and say a spell that would render him senseless before Blaise grabbed his arm, pulling him back right away. Pansy snarled, "Expelliarmus!" She yelled, pointing her wand at the Weasley's, grabbing the flying wand that flew towards him. "You son of a bitch! Stupefy."

The redhead froze and he dropped to the ground, frozen.

Hermione was the first one to react, yelling a "Avis Oppugno!"

"Protego," the Slytherin Prince shouted, and the bright light that shot out of her wand disappeared immediately. "Stay out of this, mudblood." He said, almost tiredly, not in the mood to start a fight with Potter and his gang of idiots. He was exhausted.

She recoiled, "You bloody–"

"What are you six doing out of class hours? I believe Transfigurations is your first class, isn't it?" They turned to see the beady eyes of Professor Snape.

His mother will definitely hear about this, that was for sure.

Draco groaned.


	7. Confession 6

**Hey guys! Sorry for such the late update! I do hope you guys like it! First of all, let me first thank my lovely readers who still continue to read. Thank you to those who favorite and followed this too.**

 **To SomeoneKnew: I also love to write those scenes too! I'm glad you like them.**

 **To ChachaCyrus: AWW 3 Thank you so much for reading both of my books! I hope you read on and like this chapter as much as you like the last.**

 **To others, do not forget to share your thoughts! I would definitely love to hear them!**

 **Confessions Number 6: 'Be Fine' Is Not In the Deatheater Dictionary (Nor is it in Slytherins)**

"Enlighten me, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape started to say as they all find themselves seated. Hermione shifted beside him, their skin making contact as she did so. He quickly drew back his arm. "What have you been doing out of class?" If he wasn't his godfather, Draco would've been shrinking into his seat as he continued to glare at him, but the Slytherin Prince merely looked back, not at all intimidated by his Head of House. This was obviously nothing more than what he had faced before.

Draco sneered, "Weasley decided that he's quite entitled to insult a woman and even tried to hit her no less. Blaise and I defended her only to find ourselves dueling with Potter and... Granger," he said her name as a bit of an afterthought. If looks could kill, Granger would've already been sweeping his ashes. Ha! It wasn't his fault she defended the son of a bitch!

"She insulted my family!"

"That," their Professor turned his eyes at the redhead, narrowing them. "is not reasonable enough to have done such barbaric actions. Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, and detention for all of you. I will inform, Ms. McGonagall of this and it would be her choice if she want to add any more punishments for you three." Severus ended with a scoff as he observed them all closely. "Detention would be held in the Potions Room starting tomorrow night, eight 'o clock. You may all go and are excused from Professor McGonagall's Class." Damn it, now he'd inform his mother of stuff he had gotten himself into. With the thought, Draco felt a small ounce of guilt before it quickly vanished when they stepped out of the room.

Pansy scowled, "Thanks a lot, Weasel," she spat, diminishing the silence the six had. Without another word, she turned to her heel and walked off, her head held up high as she strutted away.

"It's your fault!"

"Ronald," Granger warned and he backed off. She then turned to the remaining duo. "The dueling was completely unnecessary. You shouldn't have done that but..." she then hesitated. "I apologize for our actions too. It was also completely uncalled for." She hadn't waited for the apology to be accepted before she turned to Potter and Weasley and dragged them out of their way, as if she was scared that the scenario would repeat itself in time. Blaise stared at them, his eyebrows raised at the sudden sorry that was said by the curly haired Gryffindor. There wasn't really anything to be said.

"Interesting," Blaise mused, but he didn't say more as if the two had a silent agreement that they rather walk in silence back to the Slytherin Common Room.

Draco's mind, however, was elsewhere. The match was quite close already, just a few more days and he'd have his plan at work. Dumbledore would be dead in week's time. That still didn't settle his wild thoughts. What if the Imperius Curse wasn't enough to hold her in the next few days? What if it was weak? What if Dumbledore knew it was him and send him to Azkaban like his father? It continued to bombard his brain to the point when the blond man wanted to rip his hair from the back of his head. He needed to make this work. If not, he had to settle with the cabinet and kill the old man with everyone watching... and right now, he still couldn't find it in himself to actually kill him.

He took a deep breath.

Everything would be fine.

Everything needed to be fine.

They were two different things.

"Blaise, call Crabbe and Goyle. The goons need to be girls when I see them," When Draco spoke, his voice was cold and detached. It had an arrogant ring to it, as if he thought he still owned the place. He wore the famous Slytherin smirked, still struggling to not show the shakiness he felt. "I'm going you-know-where, and they better show up."

The said man nodded, plastering an emotionless mask on his own. " _Essere bell_ ," were his last words as he entered the common room.

To anyone, it wouldn't really mean anything but a bunch of foreign words–Italian to be exact. It wasn't the most popular language, usually, most Purebloods learn French and Spanish, but Draco knew the words too well as he heard it again and again from his best mate. _Be fine_ , he thought to himself as he continued walking.

Ah.

But he wouldn't be fine.

Draco sighed and stared at the large door in front of him, "I need a place to hide," he whispered lowly and the door opened wide to reveal the one and only cabinet hidden in front of him. He wanted to know if it worked or not. He grabbed a green apple from his satchel, placing it inside the cabinet before closing it. Whispering a spell he had found from one of the books Blaise had given him, a small red light surrounded the cabinet before it faded to transparent.

Maybe it work.

A small smile appeared on his face, but when he swung the door open, it faded into a frown. The apple was half gone it seemed. Fuck. He didn't even know if it transferred safely back into the working cabinet back in Diagon Alley! He collapsed to the ground, punching the concrete floor as he did so. Why couldn't it have worked?

He stared up the ceiling, his grey eyes wide and sad.

Be fine?

When would it ever be fine?

* * *

After spending the rest of Transfigurations Class and the next Free Period struggling to fix the bloody broken cabinet, Draco went back to the common room. He wasn't really surprised when there was an envelope in Pansy's hand that was for him. A letter from his mother. He didn't need an answer to that as he grabbed a hold of the scented parchment that was in the envelope. He glanced at Pansy before turning back to the paper.

 _Draco Hyperion Malfoy,_

 _To say that I'm disappointed was quite the understatement let me tell you that. Have I taught you nothing? This is completely uncalled for; I do not care who or who had started this, what I do care is the fact that you have gotten yourself into detention! You should have handled this thoroughly and properly, and not be as rash minded as those Gryffindors. Let me tell you this, if I wasn't afraid to embarrass the Malfoy name once more, I would've sent you a howler and give you a piece of something that you would never forget!_

 _You are already on the line with everything, Draco! Your studies are average, yes, but there are some subjects that Professor Snape had noticed that were slipping. (Ancient Runes, perhaps, might ring some bells.) Please. As much as the Dark Lord need you to do such tasks isn't something that would keep you in school. Keep yourself from saying or doing anything that you'd know that would get you into trouble. You must get back into the shadows before anybody might notice you again. You have a job to do, and I know you can do this as properly as possible._

 _It would be nice if you enjoy the sun a bit more in Hogsmeade. I've always missed a good butterbeer myself these past few days. Do bring Pansy with you! I've always loved that girl._

 _Narcissa Malfoy_

Draco paled.

No, it wasn't because of his mother's disappointment (though he hated it).

It was because of the last sentence.

There were going to be deatheaters in Hogsmeade, probably in disguise, but still... A chill went down his spine as he handed the letter to Pansy, pointing at the bottom. When the Slytherin scanned the parchment, her eyes widened and narrowed before she bit her lip, obviously worried about Hogsmeade already. "Merlin's soggy shit," Pansy swore and the hand that was holding the parchment started to tremble.

"Merlin's soggy shit, indeed."

 _Essere Belle?_

Fuck that.


	8. Confession 7

**Here's another update! I made it a tiny bit longer than before, so I hope you like it! Do share me your thoughts, as I would love to hear them. What do you think of Draco and Hermione? What about the friendship between Pansy, Blaise, and Draco? Tell me :) Thank you!**

 **Confession Number 7: There's A Reason For Everything**

Hogsmeade was near.

Draco and Pansy had been pale and sweaty day by day. None had commented. None had mocked them for it. Then again, there were a handful of Slytherins who were also shivering in fear in the next four days. Blaise tried to cheer them up by his sardonic humor or his blunt honesty, but he also wasn't putting the best face today. His mother had just become a widow again, and rumors were flying off the roof on how she had managed to kill him off this time. All in all, none of them were having a good day. It was a good thing that there was a Quidditch Match that they could look forward to–Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. Maybe he and Pansy could finally report something good to the Dark Lord... Maybe he could finally kill Dumbledore, without touching a piece of his hair!

"I don't know why we need to go. It's obvious who'd win," Pansy scowled at the blond, staying put.

The Italian sighed, "Come on, Parkinson, don't be a git and just get on with it. Something to get your mind off of it, why not?"

The scowl hadn't disappeared from her face, but she finally trudged out of the Common Room with both men beside her. "I don't need something to get my mind off to," she said. "I need something to look forward to–Dumbly's death. That's the solution to all our problems."

"Come off it, he'd be dead by the end of the year because of that arm. Dunno why I have to rush it," Draco muttered darkly. Since his father was already thrown to prison, there was no stopping the Dark Lord from making him drop on the floor and scream in torture. Though his father wasn't the best father in the world, at least he was bearable. Damn Potter. If he really could be the fucking key to his death, he might as well do it right away. For someone who could be described as selfless, he was selfish to the unwilling death eaters. Potty 2.0. Letting people die for him year by year.

Blaise raised his eyebrows, "Don't let the professors hear you. Wouldn't want them to check everything he gets and let them die in the process."

The other two smirked.

"Ah... if only."

"Let them die for all I care."

"I don't know why I became best mates with two sadistic Slytherins," he scoffed. "Think you imperiused me?"

Pansy was about to answer before a voice had interrupted her. "Don't let the pretty face fool yourself, Zabini. Merlin knows that you're equally sadistic and cunning, maybe even more, than they are." They turned around to see dark chestnut eyes that belonged to Theodore Nott.

"Ah, Nott, what a pleasure to see you again. Tell me, do you have a habit in insulting me or have you fallen for my charm?" The Italian frowned up at him, crossing his arms.

Theo sneered, "Your charm could equal to the charm of a Giant Squid."

Smirking, he chuckled. "I'm sure the Giant Squid was known for charming witches in his past life then."

They didn't give him time to answer before pushing past the burly man. Blaise's and Nott's relationship had a few bumps on them... that would be the biggest understatement in the century. Draco rolled his eyes at the thought. Ever since his mom had slept with Theo's father back in third year, things had never been the same between them. Rivalries were a dangerous thing to have in the Slytherin House, because there are times when grudges could lead to something more than that. That was why he never bothered to intervene unless things get rough.

"This is one crappy day," Blaise mused. "Run in to Nott. Detention tonight. Gryffindor Winning. Dunno which is worse."

"Try putting 'studying with the mudblood', and we'd all know the answer to that," Pansy butted in, giving the blond sixth year a pitying glance. "Poor you."

"Mud's nothing compared to the blood that we'll soon be losing in Hogsmeade," Draco muttered, but he knew that both his friends could hear him. To his relief, they were now silent.

They didn't bother to eat breakfast. Instead, they rushed to the Quidditch Field to see almost every student in every single house were staring wide eyed at nothing but green grasses. The game still hadn't started yet then. Draco smirked, and his hand fidgeted when they find themselves a seat right in the back to watch the scene full view. "You think Potter's just going to catch the snitch quickly?" Pansy asked, her tone bored as the Quidditch Players sat on their brooms, determination written all over their faces. "Make this game over quick."

"If only. I see that the Gryffindors don't have a sense of originality." he observed.

Draco turned his attention to the song that were coming from the red and gold. "WEALSEY IS OUR KING. WEASLEY IS OUR KING..." Scoffing, he shook his head, "I'm surprised you notice that now, and I thought you were the observant one in this lot."

"Ah, but the facts need to be repeated unless one of us would forget," Blaise smirked back at him, but that smirk quickly died down when he heard words behind them.

"That Zabini?"

"Yeah, mate. Saw his mother dallying with my father back then."

"What a whore."

The Italian paled, turning around to see who had said them. Turned out they were just third years, and with their bulky form and their snotty attitude, they didn't seem to know what'd happen if they mess with the Silver Trio. Pansy was the first one to speak, smiling sickly sweet a the two boys, "Watch your words, sweetie, you might not like the ending if you don't shut your traps." Her tone held a hint of malice, but they merely stared back at them, not intimidated.

"I'm just saying the truth," one grinned boldly.

"Yeah."

Draco snorted, his grey eyes narrowed at them calculatingly. They were... ah! "Jones and Kalis?" He questioned, and when the two nodded, it was his turn to grin. "I'd be careful if I were you, spouting lies like that. I may not know Blaise's mother like my best mate over here, but I know her well enough to know that she has standards."

Pansy tossed her hair haughtily, "Jones and Kalis, huh?" she said, her voice acidic. "I'd be careful if I were you. Daddy's not going to like it if he sees the sons of those bastard fools defying me."

Jones and Kalis paled considerably. "You're Pan–Pansy Parkinson?" Jones stuttered out that the Slytherin Prince couldn't help but snicker.

"How about I make a deal?" Pansy cocked up an eyebrow and the two nodded immediately, looking like broken bobbleheads. "You apologize to Blaise here and don't ever show your faces to us again or I'll make sure your fathers would be thrown out of their jobs before they could even utter a word." Her eyes flashed at them dangerously and the two Slytherin third years immediately said their sorry's and ran off, probably back to the Common Room.

Blaise shook his head, "Great, you scared the lot of them."

"What's the use of being a Parkinson if you don't threaten your status to protect your best mates?" Pansy then scrunched her nose. "Ugh. Now I sound like a bloody Gryffindor. Fuck you, Zabini."

They were interrupted by cheers that the Gryffindors were making.

It was all set to stone.

"Yes!"

It was time for stage two.

* * *

"I'm guessing you worked on the Cruciatus Curse?" That was the first sentence she had said when she sat down. She gave him a cautious smile, crossing her legs as she did so. When he nodded and handed her the papers, she gave a sigh of relief and slumped back to the chair. "Sorry, it's just that I'm so used to working with Ronald that I was expecting that you wouldn't do yours too and wait for me to do it."

As if by instinct, Draco sneered at her, "Don't compare me to the weasel, Granger."

"It's surprising how the both of you could be so alike," she sighed. "Anyways, have you read any more books other than Romeo and Juliet?" She talked to him as if the 'mudblood' thing had never happened, as if they weren't enemies for five damn years. As if noticing his expression, she said, "What?"

"Why are you nice?"

Hermione hesitated before a smile bloomed in her lips, "We're working on a project. You've been pretty much civil to me, so I guess, why not right? 'Sides, we share the same hatred for Romeo and Juliet, so I think we're fine."

She was hiding something.

It didn't need to take him time to think to say that. She was fidgeting at every glance he had given her, and there was a hint of fear lying in her eyes for him to see. Draco had two options in mind. He could call her out of it and they could be back to normal (which would be quite a relief because the way she was acting right now was beyond creepy), or he could let her believe that he 'believe' her and they could get along with each other so he could find out the real reason on why she was acting like this.

As much as he thought this was a bloody burden, he plastered a grin on his face. "I've read A Tale of Two Cities."

"And how do you like it?"

"Alright, I guess. Sydney is quite the character," Draco chuckled.

"Isn't he?" She then proceeded into a bit of a rant about the Sydney, throwing her hands up in the air every so often with eyes filled with passion for the character they were talking about. Her uncontrollable hair sparked in the midst of the rant to which he shook his head at. This was the first time he had seen her look at him with no malice in her eyes, and he found himself surprisingly relaxed. The mudblood... Granger was actually quite great to get along with.

"Do you have any books to recommend me?"

Draco's eyebrows shot up in the air. "As much as I would love to recommend you a few of my books," he said dryly. "I don't think you would love the topics with Blood Supremacy being the main plot."

"Why do you support Blood Supremacy?" That question threw him off, but what hit him right out was that there was no mocking tone in her voice, just curiosity. "I mean there are loads of good muggle borns and half blood all around... I mean, isn't that a bit close minded of you lot?"

Hmm... How was he going to explain this all to a mudblood?

Ahh... the fucking irony.

"Let me ask you with another question," he suggested and Granger nodded her head. "Why do you think?"

"Because you believe muggles steal your magic and the fact that you're afraid of something new? At least, that's what I get the gist from what Molly said." Draco laughed and Hermione glared at him. "What?" she snapped.

"For someone who's never, ever wrong, you sure do know how to make one laugh with horrible errors."

"Explain."

"Salem Witch Trials," he said the words slowly for her to understand. "That's the reason. Granger, as much as I would love to tell a story about mudbloods and blood traitors and muggles, I'm not in the mood, so just solve it all with your know-it-all brain and figure it out yourself." He stood up.

"Wait!" Hermione looked at him with eyes wide in excitement with the information given to her. "Uhrm... Could we meet up next week? I'm finally done with the essays too, so we could piece it all together and pass it to Professor Snape."

"Alright."

"And..." she hesitated once again. "Thank you. I'll research about the witch trials."

Draco rolled his eyes, "For someone who knows both muggle history and wizarding history, I'm surprised you don't know what that meant. Good day, Granger." He was already walking away when he heard a scream of frustration and a string of curse words coming from where he had last sat.

He smirked.

Ah, if there's one hobby he take up over the years and liked it, it had to be annoying Granger.


	9. Confession 8

**Okay, I may have updated this a tiny bit later than usual, and I'm so sorry! Things had been busy lately, and I'm getting sick a lot know :/ Anyways, thank you again to those who read, followed, and favorited! Share your thoughts to me as well! I wouldn't bite. Hahaha, I hope you like it.**

 **Confession Number 8: Nothing Good Can Come From Being a Death Eater**

"Do me a favor, Malfoy, and jump off the Astronomy Tower," the Weasley had the nerve to mutter when they attended the detention Snape had set out for them. Draco however, wasn't paying attention, he was too busy thinking of Katie Bell. He had just seen her walking into the Great Hall just this morning with this strange look in her face and she looked demented yet mystified at the same time. Finally, the universe was finally at his mercy for once.

Blaise smirked at what the redhead was saying. "How about you do me a favor, Weasley, and go Avada yourself already."

"Shut it," the redhead glowered at him.

"Don't mind him, Ron," Potter insisted, shooting them a glare ever so often. "He's not worth your time."

Draco snickered. "He's not worth our time, Potter, not the other way around." Heck, he couldn't even be bothered to think of a better insult. Pansy seems to be just as thoughtful as he was, with that faraway glint in her eyes, the fear that they had lessened even if Hogsmeade was tomorrow. Funny how he was so scared before, if it was just this easy... There wouldn't be blood shed in his hands.

He turned his attention to Granger, a bit weirded out on why she still hadn't join the argument they had going on the past thirty minutes. There were times when she gave him sidelong glances, but every time she did so, her gaze was calculating–as if she was trying to solve a puzzle that still hadn't been solved. What was she thinking... The Slytherin Prince smacked himself mentally. The mudblood wasn't worth his curiosity.

Ron, however, decided to knock him out of his thoughts by saying, "–feeling, ferret? With your father in prison, you don't have anyone crying off to." He grinned, looking accomplished at his insult. The three Slytherins, however, didn't feel the slightest amused, even Draco flushed in anger (and a bit of embarrassment) at the mention of the monster he had for a father. The sixth year masked his emotions with a face of indifference. The bloody weasel wasn't going to make him blow up. He hated every single time his father was mentioned, bloody despised it.

"Weasel, did someone decide to pay you a knut to say that?" he raised an eyebrow, forcing his tone to be mocking and cold. "Or are you just too dense that you consider that as an insult?"

"Why you bloody–"

"The three of you dismissed," the tension in the room dissolved immediately when they all looked up to see a greasy haired man sneering at them. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, and Ms. Granger, you earn twenty points from Gryffindor. Maybe that would teach you to earn some respect for your students."

"But, Professor," Potter protested.

"Five points from Gryffindor for interrupting me, Mr. Potter. You are all dismissed."

Pansy smirked at that before the Silver Trio walked off, not at all noticing the glares that were sent their way from Harry and Ron, and a suspicious look from Hermione.

* * *

Hogsmeade.

If fear could kill, he'd been already sixty feet under with Pansy following not far behind. The reassurance he had felt just last night vanished like a deck of cards, heck, he even had nightmares of it. He believed that, that should be in the job information in being a fucking death eater.

TAKING THE DARK MARK

Side effects: Death, Nightmares, Dark Lord breathing down your neck, Death, Torture, Fear, Death

When Caught: Taken to Azkaban, that is, if you could escape the Dark Lord's wrath.

Draco scowled.

His thoughts weren't helping him at all at the moment.

"Calm down, will you?" Blaise said, annoyed. Well, he couldn't really blame him. He was looking around left to right as if death eaters were going jump at him and yell 'DIE YOU BLOOD TRAITOR'. "You'll be fine, and you're emotions are getting to me."

"I'm sorry if we're too worried that You-Know-Who could simply say two words and we'd be as good as dead if we say anything wrong," came an annoyed tone that came from a tawny-haired sixth year. She glared at him. "Shut it, Zabini."

The Italian sighed and frowned, "Look, if you're going to go to Hogsmeade shivering like some scared little mice, you might as well not go. I don't need to know the Dark Lord personally to know that he could sniff out fear."

"Great, Blaise," Draco tossed him an incredulous look. "You just compared the man to a fucking dog."

That finally lit up the mood.

Pansy found herself giggling slightly, even Blaise who was known for his stoic features decided to laugh. The blond Slytherin smiled, and the tension in the between them slowly dissipated. If this could only last forever, he would take it, no matter how much it would cost him. Then again, a Malfoy didn't always get what he want.

As they were finally done eating in the Great Hall, the three stood up, staring at each other with a nod of understanding. "Honeydukes?" Blaise suggested, and when they all nodded their heads, he sent them a grim look. "Essere belle. I'll keep a watch on Bell to see if she'd given it to Dumbledore already."

They went their separate ways.

"You scared?" Pansy whispered as they finally had the heart to enter the Three Broomsticks.

"Fucking terrified."

Madame Rosemerta, recognizing them almost immediately, ushered them in the back of the room. They weren't surprised when they saw a hidden door right across the end, glamoured by shelves of pots and pans. They didn't hesitate when they walked in. Draco removed all sense of dread from his system and held his head up high with the most indifferent face he could ever muster up. Pansy did the same, but hers was an arrogant mask that only her closest friends could see right through.

There weren't many people there, but Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. They shuffled together and faced the woman standing in front of them. Draco's blood ran cold. Bellatrix Lestrange, his aunt. Where was the Dark Lord? He stiffened even more when he heard the voice that spread across the silent room. " _I see you are all present,_ " the cold voice brought shivers down his spine. " _Report to me your progress in your assignment_."

"I recruited five people, my Lord," Theo said, bowing his head. "They would be ready for the mark by Christmas."

" _Good, good. How about you Draco? Unless of course, you decide to become an incompetent fool like your father?_ "

Draco clenched his fists, but he continued to bow his head, "Of course not, my Lord. The cabinet is almost there. A few tweaks is in order, before I complete my first experiment."

" _First experiment?_ " came the harsh reply causing the blond man to wince. " _Time is the essence we don't have. I guess I was right then. Bellatrix? Do you mind doing the honors in showing your nephew what would happen if he failed his task?_ "

"As you wish," Bellatrix cackled and turned her obsidian eyes to him. She pointed his wand at him. " _Crucio!"_

Draco didn't know what happened next.

He heard Pansy gave a short gasp, and that's when he noticed the pain–the pain that had soared through every inch of his veins, mocking him... taunting him to scream. He let out a muffled shout as he continued to shiver and tremble beneath his aunt. He hated this, but he needed to do this. He wasn't going to let his mother get the other end of the Dark Lord's wrath. He could take this on.

The pain was over, and the blond Slytherin collapsed on the floor.

 _"Now, Draco, are you willing to work harder_?"

"Y–yes M'Lo–Lord," he stammered out. He glanced at Pansy whose face was as white as paper, but they both knew that she couldn't help him... not right now at least, while both the Dark Lord and his aunt were watching. "I swear that it will be done by the time you need it."

A loud laugh was heard, " _Of course it is. You are all dismiss."_

* * *

"Draco–"

"I'm fine, okay Pansy? Just a minor Cruciatus, I'm surprised it didn't last longer," Draco commented, his face stoic after the meeting. He shivered every now and then, the feeling of the curse sending him stings of pain every now and then. He ignored Pansy's concerned look before turning at the running Italian headed his way.

Blaise panted, his wide dark eyes staring at them. "There's a problem... with Bell."

That took their attention. "What?" They both asked, their eyes widening.

"She touched the necklace."

Looked like the universe was merely mocking him after all.

Then again, he was a death eater... nothing good can come out of that.


	10. Confession 9

**Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the late reply. School makes me so busy these days, so there are times that I won't be able to update on time. Anyways, hopefully, you guys would like this! And I would really like for you guys to share your thoughts.**

 **Confession Number 9: Anyone Needs Friends**

"Draco?"

Grey eyes hardened immediately when he looked up. Brown curls covered his vision, and he clenched his fists. What the hell was the mudblood doing now? "What do you want, Granger?" He demanded. The Astronomy Tower was supposed to be deserted... after what had happened back in Hogsmeade, he inhaled, twitching once again in pain. Damn the Cruciatus Curse. She recoiled at the tone of his voice, but he didn't seem to care. His plan had failed. Bloody failed. What other options did he have left than to kill Dumbledore with his own wand?

"Uhrm... I was wondering if you're okay," she said, and without another question she propped herself on the concrete and glanced at the bright clouds out the window. "Are you?"

"I don't understand why you have to know."

"You're the most difficult person I ever got the chance of knowing."

"Ever got the pleasure of knowing, that is."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

Draco smirked, "Well, I don't mind an easy shag now, if that's what you came here for, Granger." He leaned in closer, and she backed away, her face as red as the Weasel's hair. She spluttered for a few minutes, and with her eyes still wide and her cheeks flushed, she glared at him, which only emitted a snicker.

"You're impossible," she snapped, her face still red. "I came here to let you know that I read about the Witch Trials."

"And?"

"...Nobody really told me you thought that way," she amended with a curious stare.

He sighed, "What do you think we could've hated you for, Granger? You stealing our magic? As much as the Weasels say that, they weren't exactly educated with the Trials. I doubt they could afford the books or the brains to read," he scoffed, but he was quickly interrupted by her searing glare. She crossed her arms at him. "What? It's not like you saw him pick up a book that isn't about Quidditch."

At last, the bushy haired Gryffindor cracked a smile, "You're changing the subject."

"What subject are you speaking of?"

"The subject of your okay-ness."

The Slytherin raised his eyebrows, "I never knew that we're suddenly best of friends, Granger. Just because I don't call you mudblood anymore doesn't mean that it's an invite to ask me dumb questions."

"What's your dream?" Hermione asked abruptly, and his eyebrows went higher. When the hell did he gave an impression that he wanted to be close with the fucking mudblood? He went here to have some peace and quiet! He didn't went here to be bombarded by questions that had no relation to everything! He glared at her.

"If I answered your question, would you finally get the bloody hell out of my way?"

The Gryffindor gave a reluctant nod.

"My dream is ," he hesitated. "to become a healer." Ah, the irony. For a job that could change and heal so many lives, he sure loved to torture and kill them all before that. His arm throbbed. Granger seemed to be thinking the same as he did because her mouth was slightly open and her eyes widened. Composing herself, she frowned.

"I wanted to become a healer before too... Now, I want to be a writer."

"Figure. Only one would memorize a book back to back and want to write a book of her own," he gave a small smile to which she chuckled. She was about to respond when a high ear-piercing squeal interrupted them. Draco tried to look calm when a thundering Slytherin went forward and touched his shoulder in affectionately.

She squealed once again, and he winced, "Drakey, I've been looking for you everywhere!" she glanced at the Gryffindor Princess in front of them and sneered. "Why're you talking to a mudblood? C'mon Drakey," It was Hermione's turn to wince at the frequent use of his 'nickname'. "Let's go somewhere private where no filth would litter the area."

"Actually," she said stiffly. "I'll be leaving now."

And with that, the bushy haired sixth year walked out of the room leaving the two Slytherins behind. Pansy, of course, didn't waste any time as she casted a soft 'muffliato' (Snape had taught them that back when they were third years) and a disillusionment charm on them, and turned back at him with a livid expression on her face. She crossed her arms on her chest and glared at him. "What were you doing with the mudblood?" Her voice was soft yet deadly at the same time. If voices could kill, he would've already had blood running down his ears.

Draco glared back, "You're not my keeper, Pansy. Leave it."

"You have just been crucio'd by the Dark Lord, Malfoy, and here I found you communicating with a mudblood. A mudblood who happened to be a best friend of the boy he's targeting," she snapped. "Have you gone mad?"

"I was asking her to leave. She wasn't listening."

"Have you suddenly thrown your brain when Bell started to fly? _YOU COULD'VE LEFT, YOU STUPID PRAT._ "

"I know what I'm doing, Parkinson."

Pansy scoffed, "Keep telling yourself that because the next time you screw up, it wouldn't be a simple cruciatus curse that would hit you," her face hardened when she saw him wince. "Look, the Dark Lord isn't pleased with you, Draco. Blaise and I are doing everything we can to help you, but are you actually doing everything you can to help yourself?"

"I am."

She nodded, but then she glanced back at the door behind her and she narrowed her eyes. "She's hiding something."

"Granger?" The blond said, rolling his eyes. "She's an open book."

"Sometimes the most obvious things are the ones left ignored," Pansy shrugged.

Draco scowled, "I know what I'm doing, Pansy. You're not my mum."

"Well once someone other than Blaise and I catch you playing chummy chummy with Granger, I'd be the only mother figure you'll have in your life," Pansy spat, not even bothering to notice that his face had darkened. "I'm only looking out for you, Draco. I hope you understand that."

"The mudblood is nothing," Draco snapped. "I don't need to understand anything." Without giving her another chance to answer, he swiftly stalked out of the room leaving the Slytherin female alone in the Astronomy Tower. Stupid mudblood, his face darkened even more. He obviously felt nothing for her, but there was a reason on why she was trying to play close with him. He clenched his fists and headed to the cabinet.

* * *

"Draco!" That damned voice interrupted his chat with Blaise. He glanced at the right to see the familiar bushy haired Gryffindor making his way towards him with a friendly smile on her face. That smile made him sick. He frowned, and so did Blaise. He shot him a questioning glance to which he had ignored. He wasn't in the mood for questions. "Make it to the library later. We're going to finalize our papers. It's due tomorrow!"

He glowered in response, "I don't take orders from mudbloods."

Hermione looked taken aback from his snap. She frowned, and glanced at the Italian beside him who gave her an emotionless face in return. "I'll tell Professor Snape," she warned, but her voice lined with surprise and disappointment (why? he didn't know). "And don't call me mudblood."

"As much as I'd like to spend my time with _dirt_ ," he spat the last one. "I got more important things to do. C'mon Blaise."

They walked out of the way, and when they were nearing the dungeons, the Italian raised an eyebrow at him. He crossed his arms and shook his head at him, "Moody, aren't you?" he questioned, looking him up and down. "What's gotten into you?"

"Cabinet. I'm going there again."

As if immediately, Blaise walked to the direction he was going in. "Well, I'm going with you."

"You wouldn't have time to work on your essay for History of Magic."

Blaise shrugged, "Who the hell cares? I'm studying more history just by looking at the cabinet than some old ghost."

A smile curved into his face, "Thanks, mate."

"Anytime."


End file.
